Good read on fluffing up your blog.
Some of my best friends are anonymous But that doesn’t increase their subscriber counts Not so long ago, from an entirely personal perspective, I was…Tips for bloggers #5: Leverage your identity
I started this journey in 2019, and since then, I have had my heart and life shattered, I have quietly sorted out most of the pieces, put them back together, only to have my heart shattered again. Then, it felt as if the pieces had been stolen by The Pandemic.
This time, organizing the pieces will still be painful, but putting them back together will be simpler, because I know how to better organize and fit them into place, delicately and deliberately. I am in exactly the right place at every moment.
I am loved.
I am grateful.
I am wise.
I am fierce.
I am resilient.
I am empowered.
I am Enough.
I am a woman that owns my sexuality.
I am the daughter of domestic abuse.
I am a partner, and a soul mate, and a lover.
I am worthy of love and belonging.
I am a dreamer in a rigid world.
I am the woman your mother warned you about; the one that stands her ground, and the star peg in the round hole.
I am a lonely lotus.
The Woman in Black.
The Phoenix Risen.
And I am here to Fuck. Shit. Up.
As a part of my healing process, I started looking into the idea of spirituality. Brene Brown defines spirituality as “recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion. Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning, and purpose to our lives.”
It was really difficult for me to open up to the idea of spirituality because I had always thought of myself as agnostic or atheist. I don’t believe in the One Might God, but I also don’t believe that things just happen randomly. Truthfully, I struggled with the idea of atheism for that reason: I don’t believe things just happen randomly; I believe in karma, and soul mates, some sort of order in the universe, but I don’t believe it is a/The God. So I created my own label for my religious beliefs: Spiritual Atheist. I’m sure that someone came up with that terminology much sooner than I did, but when I thought of it, it just seemed to fit.
It has been a real eye-opener for me in a lot of ways. I used to roll my eyes about people that would profess their love for God, and after this experience, I now have a better understanding of why; That is what brings them connection and purpose into their lives. Who am I to judge a normal non-ass hole person for professing their love for Jesus (and by ass hole, I mean the judgy kind). The church that they worship at is just a means for their connection, and if it makes them happy, why judge them? I am grateful that I had the courage to dip into spirituality, because it has taught me a deeply valuable lesson in compassion and empathy.
Re-adjusting to driving after my probationary period was over was incredibly scary. The first time I drove, I had a mini panic attack driving to the gas station 3 minutes down the road. Thankfully Patrick, my husband, was in the car with me and took over. As I felt my meds kicking in and starting feeling safe driving, it became easier. It took a lot of help getting there though; daily dose of Zoloft, therapy, and my own exposure therapy. It was around ~2-3 months for me to finally feel safe driving on a day to day basis, but I generally still won’t get onto the freeways unless absolutely necessary or I have had time to prepare myself, and usually, I’ll take more medication, juuust in case. If I feel crappy on any given day, I won’t drive at all. I never want to have to wake up in a crashed car ever again, so I play it safe.
I mentioned in the last piece that I started a new medication called Topamax. Ughhhh. Oh my dear God, it was the worst medication ever. My hands, feet, face were almost always tingly. It’s that feeling you get when your arm or leg falls asleep, but it just happens regularly, without warning, and all across your face and fingers.
At first, it made me feel like I was having panic attacks, but I learned to get used to it. The foggy brain was the worst; It literally felt like a really dense fog just parked, very stubbornly, creating a black cloud on my brain. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t put sentences together, I’d forget tiny little details, and it made functioning completely impossible most days. On bad days my brain was only functioning at 30-50% capacity. Gratefully, I was able to have a conversation with my doctor about these side effects, assured me that they were really normal, and we decided to switch things up again. I am now on the generic of Lamictal, which is Lamotragen.
My education has had to be put on hold; I couldn’t focus on school until I find a way to lighten this heavy burden in my soul. Aside from the obvious issues regarding COVID-19, I am no longer able to be on campus as much as I had envisioned, and I’m having to figure out a path that works for me and my disability. I’d been in denial all these years about needing to do so, but I finally have to get my paperwork in order to be considered a student with a disability to have some of my needs accommodated.
I am grateful that I have my current doctor’s support; my last two doctors would not have been as supportive and would have been incredibly grumpy about filling out the paperwork. Sometimes I wonder with specialists, “What the fuck am I paying to see you for then?!” Lawd have mercy!
I’m in the process of starting my own business and trying to get it off the ground. My goal is to help people with their sexual issues on a very surface level by getting to know them using a questionnaire I created, meant to take the discomfort out of the initial conversation. Ultimately my is to educate them on their bodies, providing resources and exercises to build their confidence and knowledge to give them a better sex life. It’s essentially like a sex coach. I’m also looking into getting a few certifications so that I have a can feel and present more confidently. If you’d like to check out my website, please feel free to click here.
As always, thank you so much for visiting and reading my work. I am incredibly grateful for your time. As well, I would love some feedback on my website and my idea. Please leave a comment below, or you can email me privately at email@example.com.
Thank you. xo
“You either walk inside your story and own it or you stand outside your story & hustle for your worthiness.” – Dr. Brene Brown
****Trigger Warning: Graphic description of anxiety in the first paragraph and some minor graphic descriptions below. ****
You all know what I’m talking about: it’s that little tiny monster that sneaks its way into your soul, making you question everything that you do, in the more you question yourself, your sanity, your world, the more it feeds, and the bigger it grows. Eventually, without us realizing, it has turned into this horrid creature that you’ve never seen before, but it is suffocating you, and your knees bend beneath you, and eventually you give up and allow it to take over.
Yeah – that went dark fast, didn’t it? This is probably saying, “Bitch, I don’t come here for the depressing stuff. I come here for the relatable information and occasional humor!” First of all, thank you for thinking that I’m funny; I’ve been working on it 😉 Secondly, this is my show damnit! *pouts*
But in all seriousness, I know that I claim this is a sex education blog, but I think that this needs to be talked about, because as small as my platform is, all it takes is it to reach one person in need for it to be worth it. There is never a gesture too small for someone who genuinely needs and is receptive to help. It just starts with a simple question: “Are you okay?
Any way, back to me! Mine and Patrick’s world have been in a tailspin since the year began, and we were lucky enough to get hit with a triple whammy: financial, family, and moving. We decided to get married this year, I decided to go back to school full time and cut back on working only a couple of days a week, then we found out that Patrick’s father had a stroke and were able to reconnect with his father’s side of the family, but because they live out of town, we rented hotel rooms, and my course load was significantly fuller than I originally anticipated, and I’m rebuilding a relationship with my father, and he just recently met Patrick, and it goes on and on and on.
If that felt like a cluster fuck of information, how do you think we feel? The anxiety is constantly looming; it feels like there’s constantly something that I’m forgetting about, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s physically, emotionally and mentally exhausting to be on high alert ALL OF THE TIME. And to top it off, I’m an empathic fixer: I feel very deeply, process very slowly, and I have the instinct to try and fix things as soon as shit hits the fan. I feel anxiety about the possibility of feeling anxiety. Like, what the fuck is that shit? I can’t fucking even. Side note: anxiety simultaneously brings out the basic white bish and the foul mouthed sailor in me.
And worst yet, I am, what I have dubbed, just right this second, an emotional coat rack. I tend to ask people if they need help, and once they do, they tend to dump their emotional coats on me, which wouldn’t be a problem, except, yep, I said it above, I’m an empathic fixer. And, I suck at asking for help, so as a result, I either internalize (which I didn’t realize the extent to which I do until recently), or I emotionally dump on others, who are also empathic fixers. We emotionally dump like it’s a freaking pyramid scheme, or the PC term we use now, a Multi-level marketing scheme. They can’t fool me; John Oliver told me they’re the same!
So how does this anxiety show itself, you may ask? Probably not, but I’m going to tell you any way. For me, it starts with a little bit of OCD; Did you lock the door? Yes, I’ve checked it 5 times dumb ass. Then, I’ll start nagging, blaming and resenting; He knows I’m pissed off today, why is he still breathing in my general direction? Then, we end up having a stupid argument about something stupid, and we both feel shame and guilt for acting like a cunt muffin towards each other. Finally, we make up, and talk about it and move on.
But fuck does it suck to always be the strong one sometimes. The worst part about emotional dumping how good it feels to get it off your chest. I get tired of being the emotional coat rack sometimes, and sometimes I want to be the one that someone offers to help.
Don’t feel shameful if you’ve never offered to help someone in need; life is hard and hectic, and sometimes, if things just don’t feel like they’re going to line up, you go into survival mode, or as I refer to it, hermit mode. It’s also difficult to open yourself up enough to empathize with others; it can be extremely uncomfortable to dig into a deep part of yourself that say, “I’ve been there too.” The bad memories of those experiences tend to linger and sometimes it feels like you can’t handle someone else’s load (lol load). But sometimes, even a simple hug, a funny meme or a “Just checking in” text can change someones day.
I encourage you to be curious about the things that give you anxiety; the monster wins if you shy away from it. I also encourage you to practice gratitude; when you focus on all of the positive things that are going on, it makes dealing with the hard stuff much easier to manage. Finally, practice noticing the people around you. If you see a mom with a screaming child, being stared at grudgingly by strangers, and clearly flustered, ask her if she needs help. If you haven’t heard from a friend in a long time, send them a text saying that you’re thinking about them. It’s amazing how it can brighten not only their day, but also yours.
#makeamericakindagain #anxiety #empathicfixer #emotionaldumping
My name is Emily Autumn. As of writing this, I am 29 years old, and depending on who you ask in 10 years, I might still be 29. I am currently a human struggling to keep my head above water on bad days and scraping by on the good days. I say intentionally because I am working on getting through my
mid-life crisis “spiritual awakening”. I’m hoping that if I say that phrase enough times that I’ll feel more inclined to believe it.
My life has been very complicated since I was born. I was born to a non-practicing Mormon mother with a big mouth and a non-practicing Muslim father, with an even bigger temper. They both experienced and witnessed a lot of abuse and other horrible events that brought them to each other and it was volatile from the start. And then I came along and we lived happily ever after. lol jk.
In a lot of ways, I had an ideal childhood: two parents that loved me and doted on me, we lived in an okay house in an okay neighborhood, I had really rad birthday parties and we took vacations to Disneyland (not World, there’s a difference) and Turkey. I went to an okay school where my mom was a room mother and my class always had the most elaborate parties for all of the holidays. I was even a girl scout and got to go camping and sell cookies and my mom was one of the den mothers. On the outside, we looked like a relatively normal, middle class family.
I lived a privileged life in a lot of ways, but the inner turmoil of my parents marriage, and subsequent divorce was a hefty price to pay for all of the glamorous things that I grew up with.
As it turns out, the old expression “All that glitters is not gold” was a very appropriate statement for my family. Behind the scenes, there was tension, anger, an eating disorder, verbal abuse and many attempts at physical abuse.
My father came from a very abusive family. My mother came was the product of an affair that my grandmother didn’t know she was having, and when my biological grandfather left her, she turned to alcohol. My mother grew up in a very unstable home and was sent to live with an angel for awhile, but we just called her Meme. My dad worked hard to make a living for my mom and I, and that’s what my mother needed: stability.
I grew up “the perfect child”; my mother made sure of it, no matter how she had to get me there. I had the perfectly styled hair, perfectly cute outfits with accessories to match, perfect play dates, perfect reading, perfect writing, and most importantly, I was to behave perfectly. It was all peachy and perfect (put lots of emphasis on those P’s).
So now, as an adult, I’ve realized that my early life how fucked up things really were in my house as an adult. I remember walking into the living room in the middle of the night to my parents fighting, and my mother threw a phone at my dad. I don’t remember this, but I allegedly walked in on my father raising his hand to my mom like he was going to slap her, and when he saw me, he pulled his hand away.
I also remember feeling like I had to walk on egg shells or else face the corner or face the hand to my bottom. I remember not emptying the trash can and my mother walking in and saying that she was disappointed in me and that she didn’t want to speak to me for awhile.
And I remember feeling unappreciated and unvalued by both of my parents sometimes.
So what’s the point of telling you all of this? You’re probably thinking, “Bitch, I thought this was a sex blog. Where’s the juicy shit?” Well unfortunately, before we can get to the good shit, we have to wade through the bad shit: the deep pit of shame of just being alive sometimes, or the struggle to just put one foot in front of the other to make it through the day. I promise that the good, juicy shit is coming soon (lol coming).
So let’s regroup after all the heavy shit at the beginning and kind of start over.
Hi, my name is Emily Autumn. That is not my legal name, it is my chosen name. All of the hard experiences in my life have given me the wisdom to know that you don’t have to settle for the things you’re given, you can build your own identity from scratch. I have struggled with an eating disorder, alcohol and boys. I used to feel a deep sense of shame from my experiences because I thought that it made me broken and unlovable, but I have come to the understanding that being broken just means that you have the opportunity to replace some of the old pieces dull pieces with beautiful ones and create a stained glass window.
I am currently studying psychology at the University of Houston. I want to pursue sex therapy, but I also want to study it. I want to study the relationship between sex and shame and change the conversation; I want to empower women with their sexuality, but also teach them to be kinder to themselves. I want to teach men that it’s okay to feel emotions and that it’s okay to cry and that it’s not shameful. And I want to teach men and women how to love themselves more so that they can be better partners, better parents, better listeners and better to themselves; because in my journey, thanks to some guidance from Brene Brown ( #noticemebrenebrown #shameless ) that you can’t give people something that you don’t have, and if you can’t be kind to yourself, you can’t be kind to others.
Just to be clear, this did not happen over night. My journey started roughly 4 years ago and it’s been mostly uphill. But in those 4 years, I have learned patience, kindness and thoughtfulness along the way, so I am eternally grateful for all of the terrible things that have happened in my life.
I am confident, that together, we can work through the kinks together and learn to face the world in a more confident and thoughtful way.
Until next time, make good choices and don’t have sex or you’ll get pregnant and die (just kidding, but seriously, have safe sex).